The Art of Insanity
by Maximum Ride 000
Summary: The definition of insanity is the repetition of an action with the expectation of different results.  What do you call it when you actually get different results?


**Wow, this was supposed to be a two hundred word or less drabble, but it appears to have a mind all its own. I really like these two and I think they make an absolutely adorable couple. I apologize if they seem a little OOC, but I tried to stay in character as much as possible. I hope you enjoy this oversized drabble.**

**Disclaimer: The world is a safer place because I don't own Hetalia**

**~Maximum Ride 000**

The definition of insanity is the repetition of any given action with the expectation of receiving different results. Fortunately for Spain, Romano had long since given up any hope for the man's sanity. The Italian struggled half heartedly against the Spaniard's grip before he gave up and allowed the other man to hold him tightly. "I love you, my little tomato", Spain said softly.

Romano blushed at the statement but whispered, "I love you too, you moron", the insult only being attached as an afterthought. Romano wondered to himself when it had become so easy to say that to the man whose arms were currently wrapped around his waist. He closed his eyes as the memory of the first time Spain had said those three words came flickering through his mind.

A much younger Romano went tearing through the hallways of Spain's unnecessarily large home. He skidded around a corner, just barely avoiding a very breakable looking vase resting on a table, unsure of where exactly he was. He found himself facing a dead end hallway as he heard Spain's footsteps getting closer. He glanced wildly to his right and left, hoping to find another means of escape. "Lovi, what's the matter with you?" Spain questioned from right behind him, the concern evident in his voice. He whirled around, forcing his anger to hide the hurt he really felt.

"I heard what you said to the music bastard", he shouted, seeing the guilty look that flickered across the other man's face. "I heard you begging the music bastard if you could trade me for my brother", he continued, trying not to cry, because there was no way in hell that he was gonna let the other man see him cry, let him know how much his words had hurt.

"I'm sorry Lovi", the older man said, "What I did was wrong, I shouldn't have asked Roderich to trade. You are every bit as wonderful as your brother. Please Lovi, Please I'm sorry. Please don't cry", he pleaded with the boy, close to tears himself. "Please Lovi, I would never trade you for your brother, I love you", he finished softly, hoping the boy would hear the sincerity in his voice.

Romano remained silent, unsure of how to respond to the sudden seriousness of the normally happy man's voice, as his face flushed red. "Please Lovi, say something", Antonio asked gently. Romano snapped at the use of the nickname he hated so much, his anger coming back full force.

"Screw you bastard!" he shouted as he kicked the older man as hard as he could in the shin. Romano barely registered the muffled curse from the older man as he took off back down the hallway. After a few minutes of frantic searching the little Italian found his room and slammed the door shut behind him. In the hallway Spain let out a pained sigh, as much as he really wanted to go after his young charge, he knew that what he had done to Romano was unforgivable and that the best thing he could do to help fix his mistake was to allow the boy to blow off some steam before he tried to apologize again. At least he knew that Romano was safe, he would have to content himself with that knowledge for the time being. He moved down the hallway and down to his living room, wincing at the ache that resonated through his entire leg from the vicious, and probably well deserved, kick he had received earlier.

A few days later Romano finally left his room, compelled towards the kitchen by his driving hunger and the wonderful smell of whatever Spain was cooking. He had most definitely not forgiven the other man, but his desire for food was outweighing his righteous fury. Spain offered him a tentative smile as he entered the kitchen. Romano glared at him for a moment, but said nothing. Spain sighed and Romano could hear so many emotions just from that one sigh; he heard guilt, frustration, sadness, and something that he couldn't quite place. "Look, Lovino, I'm truly sorry for what I did. It was wrong of me to try and trade you for your brother. You have every right to be angry with me and to never want to speak to me again, but I just really want you to know that I am sorry", Spain said. Romano blinked in surprise; he had never heard the other nation sound so sincere and so sad. He wanted to stay mad, he wanted to punch the bastard as hard as he could, he wanted to yell and scream until his voice gave out, but he found himself staring into the other man's eyes, reading the sadness in them. He was startled by the surge of emotion that ran through him at the sight. He didn't want Spain to be sad, he absolutely couldn't stand the thought of the easy going man being sad because of something _he_ did.

"Whatever", he offered, refusing to look Spain in the eye. He didn't forgive the other man, his pride and anger wouldn't allow for forgiveness, but it was a chance at peace. Spain gave him a genuine smile and handed him a plate of pasta with tomato sauce before he served himself. The two ate in silence and the incident was never mentioned again.

It would be years before Spain said those three words to him with such earnest. Sure Spain said them all the time, but Romano usually ignored the words, simply believing them to be Spain's crazy was to express happiness. Romano had almost forgotten how serious the man could be when he was apologizing and he knew he was at fault.

This time Spain had blown him off. It was Tuesday night and Romano and Spain always had dinner together on Tuesdays. It was the one time each week where Romano would refrain from calling him a bastard and Antonio would avoid saying things that he knew would set Romano off, even if it was just for dinner. Romano, who always managed to get home before Spain did, would come home and make dinner for the two of them while Spain would stop on his way home from work and pick up a nice, but inexpensive, bottle of wine. No one else knew of these weekly armistices, but the two nations believed that the weekly dinners were very important. Or, at least, Romano thought that Spain believed that the dinners were important. He had come home and began cooking a simple but delicious pasta dish that he knew Spain liked, smiling to himself as he wondered what kind of wine Spain would bring home that night. Two hours later Romano found himself nervously pacing back and forth wondering where Spain could possibly be. Finally giving in to the rising panic, he pulled his cell phone and dialed Spain's number. It rang once, twice, three times before Spain's clearly inebriated voice flowed through the line. "Hello Lovi", Spain said, "how are you?"

Romano ground his teeth together; it was taking all of his willpower to not yell at the man on the other end of the line. "How am I?" he asked, his voice dripping with poorly concealed anger, "I'm doing pretty well considering it's Tuesday!" he shouted, unable to keep his anger in check.

He heard the sharp intake of breath from the other man, "Shit! It's Tuesday? Oh God, I'm so sorry Lo-".

Romano snapped his phone shut, cutting off the other man's apology. He stood stiffly for a moment, trying not to cry at the realization that the other man had completely forgotten about dinner. He chucked his phone across the room and was slightly satisfied to hear the telltale sound of breaking glass. Good, he thought to himself, now Spain can clean that up when he gets home.

Spain sighed as he realized that he had truly angered Lovi. It wasn't often that he truly made Lovi angry with him, but when he did, the action was always accompanied by an overpowering feeling of guilt. He looked up to see the curious and concerned eyes of his drinking partners. "Is everything alright?" France asked, not sure if Spain wanted to talk about his sudden change in mood.

Spain sighed heavily, dropping his head into his hands, "I forgot that today's Tuesday", he muttered just loud enough for his two friends to hear.

"And how does that involve your favorite angry Italian?" Prussia asked, curious, but treading lightly.

"Lovi and I have dinner every Tuesday, and I completely forgot that today was Tuesday. Lovi is never going to forgive me", he said, obviously upset with himself, "I'm sorry mis amigos, I have to go." Both France and Prussia nodded understandingly as Spain rushed out of the bar. He quickly hailed a taxi, it do neither him or Lovino any good if he got into a wreck on his way home. He slid out of the cab, stopping only long enough to pay the cab driver, before he ran up the steps that lead to his front door. He unlocked the door and stepped inside, expecting to see an angry Lovi sitting in the living room chair, but was greeted by the sight of an empty room. He quickly checked the rest of the living room and panicked slightly when he saw the shattered picture frame. He ran upstairs and opened the door to Lovi's room and let out a relieved sigh when he saw the Italian curled up in a ball, asleep under his comforter. He backed out of the room, it would be a very bad idea to wake Lovi up at this point. He knew Lovi was safe, he would have to content himself with that knowledge for now. He went into the kitchen and was surprised to see a plate of pasta covered in tomato sauce and cheese sitting on the counter. There was a note beside it written in Lovi's cursive script that gave Spain instructions on how to reheat the dish. He sighed heavily, wincing at the pain that radiated through him at the thought of Lovi suffering because of his mistake.

Lovi spent the next few days avoiding Spain which, though it saddened the older man, gave him time to properly prepare his apology. When he was sure that everything was set up correctly he searched the house for Lovi, finding him sitting in the living room, reading a book. "Lovino", he said softly, to gain the other's attention, "Will you please have dinner with me?" he asked. Lovi slowly looked up from his book and gazed at the man before him. He was furious with the older man for having forgotten their weekly meals, but he could also see how incredibly sorry he was for forgetting. He suppressed a sigh and nodded, it wouldn't do either of them any good if he continued to ignore the other's presence. Antonio smiled as Lovi allowed him to take his hand and lead him out to the back yard. Lovi gasped in surprise, spread out across a blanket was every kind of pasta imaginable, all sorts of homemade bread, desserts of all shapes and sizes, and what appeared to be a very expensive bottle of wine. "I'm sorry that I forgot about our dinner", Spain said softly, breaking Romano from his trance like state. Lovi looked from the blanket covered in food to Spain and then back to the blanket. He almost couldn't believe that Spain had done all of that just to apologize for forgetting one dinner. "I love you Lovi, and I'm sorry that I hurt you", he said in an almost whisper. Romano gently squeezed Antonio's hand, a silent forgiveness for Antonio's mistake. Antonio smiled and pulled Lovi forward and the two enjoyed a nice evening.

Many years had passed and Lovi had long since moved out of Spain's house and into a small house of his own. The two still had their Tuesday night dinners and neither had missed a single one since the incident years ago. Spain often dropped by unexpectedly, but Romano couldn't bring himself to be truly irritated with the man for the surprise visits. Spain had just finished, once again, declaring his undying love for his little tomato and, as expected, his declaration was met with a rather painful punch to the stomach and a shouted _shut up_ from the smaller man. Spain smiled as the two fell into a well rehearsed routine. Spain would tell the younger man that he loved him and Romano would hit him or shout at him or both. He had received lots of punches, kicks, and head butts from the other man over the years, but he hoped that if he repeated those three words enough times that maybe, just maybe, Romano would finally believe him. "It's true though Lovi, I love you mi tomato", he said.

Romano spun around, his face a deep red, "I thought I told you not to call me that", he growled.

"Oh Lovi, don't you love me too?" Spain asked in a mock hurt tone. To his surprise Lovi didn't respond with his usual denial of any such emotions. "Do you love me Lovi?" he asked gently. Lovi's only response was to pull the older man down by his collar and kiss him soundly on the lips. After a few moments they broke apart and a huge grin appeared on Spain's face.

"Shut up", Romano grumbled half heartedly, seeing the grin on Spain's face.

"You never answered my question Lovi, do you love me?" Spain asked again.

Romano blushed so deeply that Spain was afraid that he might pass out, "Yes, you idiot", he muttered.

"Yes, what?" Spain dared to tease the boy just a little more, he wanted to hear Lovi say those three words so badly.

Romano looked him straight in the eyes, "I love you, Antonio", he said, his voice trembling slightly as he finally voiced the words they had both long known to be true.

"I love you too, Lovino", Spain whispered gently as he hugged the blushing man.

"Lovi?" Spain's voice coaxed Romano from his memories, "Are you okay?"

Romano blinked a few times before he responded, "Yeah, I'm fine, just thinking."

"What about?" Spain asked, curious as to what could have distracted his boyfriend for so long.

Romano hesitated, Spain didn't really need to know that he was on Romano's mind so much. The man already had a big ego when it came to Lovi, there was no need to make that ego any bigger. "I was just thinking about what I was going to ask you to make for dinner tonight", he said, fully aware that his lie was flimsy at best. Spain looked at him skeptically for a moment but decided not to push Lovi for the truth, he knew that Lovi would tell him when he was ready. He smiled at the man cradled in his lap, he settled down into a position that would be more comfortable for both of them, "Let me know when you decide", he said, closing his eyes and leaving Lovi alone with his thoughts once more. Lovi shifted back against Spain and shut his eyes. Spain smiled as he felt Lovi relax against him. An old friend had once told him that the repetition of an action with the expectation of a different result was the definition of insanity, but Spain disagreed. After all, he had told Lovi that he loved him thousands of times, and had gotten different results each time. Each time he repeated the action he got closer and closer to convincing Lovi that he meant each and every one of his declarations. No, Spain believed that the definition of insanity was giving up on something, or someone, that he couldn't go a day without. He relaxed as he felt Lovi's breathing even out, indicating that the man was asleep. He smiled, dinner could wait, snuggling with Lovi was far more important.

**Sleep, where are you? I'm sorry I didn't mean what I said. I was lying when I said I didn't need you. Please come back to me, I swear I'll never say anything bad about you again! **

**Hey, maybe if you leave me a review then sleep will come back to me. What do you say? Leave me a review? Please?**

**~Maximum Ride 000 **


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